


My Visit to the 99th Precinct

by sixbeforelunch



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, POV First Person, Post-Canon (Scrubs)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24430561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: As I walked into the police station that afternoon, I thought a lot about how police stations and hospitals aren't that different.
Relationships: Perry Cox & John "JD" Dorian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	My Visit to the 99th Precinct

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching a lot of Scrubs and a lot of B99 and somehow this happened. IDEK. It's more of a Scrubs fic than a B99 fic, although I hope I did justice to both sets of characters. The timeline is fuzzy. It's post-canon for Scrubs (well, post-season 8, I've never seen season 9). For B99, it can be any time prior to Amy's promotion to sergeant.

As I walked into the police station that afternoon, I thought a lot about how police stations and hospitals--

Wait. Let me recap a few things first.

A few years ago, Elliot got a job offer leading up an endocrinology department at a hospital in Manhattan. It was a tough choice, but in the end we packed up the kids, promised Sam that he could spend every summer with us going to Broadway plays (Sam loves the theater) and set off for the Big Apple. Since Elliot was making big New York money, I had taken a lower-stress job as an attending at a hospital in Brooklyn. It gave me plenty of time to be home for the kids, and make sure that the house was kept up and dinner was ready when Elliot got home from work.

Take that archaic gender roles!

Anyhoozels.

I was at the hospital when I got a call that took me to the 99th precinct in Brooklyn, and as I walked into the police station that afternoon, I thought a lot about how police stations and hospitals aren't that different. No one really wants to be in either. You're there because you have to be, either because you're vomiting blood, or because you got mugged and someone took you Batman wallet (yes I'm still mad!). 

There are other similarities too. Both sometimes smell like poo, for example. And both sometimes have your former mentor doing chest compressions on an unresponsive patient and screaming at you to stop gawking and come help.

Wait, no. That's not normal for a police station.

"Newbie! Switch out with me! My arms are tired!"

Some people like to do chest compressions to "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees. Me, I like "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper.

"When the working day is done / Oh, girls, they wanna have fun / Oh, girls just wanna have fun!"

"Clear!"

I got clear.

The AED (that's an automated external defibrillator) shocked the patient just as the paramedics rolled in. We helped them get him onto the gurney, and into the elevator.

"Well that was interesting," I said. "Hi Perry!"

I got the grumble that means, "Hi JD, I'm glad to see you but I'm too emotionally constipated to say so." It's a shame you can't treat emotional constipation as easily as physical constipation. Imagine if there were emotional glycerin suppositories on the market to help get things flowing.

Or is that what alcohol is for?

"Focus Maria!"

I hugged him. "I'll be your suppository, Perry!" 

I got the grumble that means, "You have three seconds to stop hugging me or I will break both your arms."

"Hey Doctor D!"

I turned and saw one of the marvels of modern medicine. "Norm!"

Norm Scully should not be alive. I'm not sure how he is. No one is sure how he is. It's very confusing.

A shorter man walked up to us. "You know Detective Scully?"

"Doctor Dorian is writing a paper about me," Norm said. "I should be dead."

"You really should," I said with a chuckle, and patted him gently on the back and then paused to see if it had triggered some sort of medical emergency. Surprisingly, it hadn't, so I gave his shoulder a squeeze. I like the giraffe-hearted lunk.

The shorter man held out his hand. "I'm Detective Boyle. Thank you for coming down."

"Anything for my mentor-cum-second-best-friend."

Perry slumped down in a chair next to Detective Boyle's desk and scrubbed at his face. 

"So what seems to be the problem?" I asked. "Perry, did you get mugged? You have to watch out for those kids. Elliot bought me a new Batman wallet, but it's not the same."

Detective Boyle cleared his throat. "I'm afraid Mr. Cox here is under arrest for assault."

I frowned. "First of all, it's Doctor Cox, and secondly, Perry no! How could you?"

"It was self-defense," Perry said.

"See there," I said to Detective Boyle. "It was self-defense."

"Yeah," said Boyle regretfully, "except it wasn't. We have multiple witnesses who say that Dr. Cox was the one who escalated the verbal altercation."

Perry turned red. "I was defending myself and everyone else on this planet from bad science and the loss of herd immunity which is the only thing standing between us and a whole host of communicable diseases that will hurt a lot more than a punch in the face!"

Oh noooooooo. "Perry, did you punch an anti-vaxxer?"

Another grumble. This one meant, "Don't ask stupid questions, Newbie."

I sighed.

"He's not wrong." I looked across to a woman sitting at a desk labeled "Det. Amy Santiago", who was saying, "Loss of herd immunity is a big problem, especially for immunocompromised and the very young."

I smiled. "Thank you Detective Santiago. You're clearly informed on the issue."

She beamed, and then sobered. "You still can't punch people, though."

"It's illegal," Boyle said.

"Are you sure?" I gave him my best doe-eyes.

The doe-eyes did not work. He nodded. "I'm afraid so."

I tried another tactic. "He saved that guy's life just now. Doesn't that count for something, the life of your brother officer?"

Boyle shook his head. "Not a brother officer. Actually a murderer."

Ah.

"Although I do appreciate that you prevented him from killing himself so that his victim's family will get their day in court and maybe find some closure." He straightened some papers on his desk. "Now, the good news is, I've spoken to the woman he assaulted, and she's agreed not to press charges as long as Dr. Cox apologizes, and says he respects her opinion."

"You hit a woman?"

He glared at me. "Gender roles are a social construct."

"Very woke. You've come a long way these last few years."

"Bite me, Bonnie."

I shook my head. "Just apologize and tell her what she wants to hear and we can be on our way."

This Coxian grumble meant, "I'd rather rip out my fingernails and eat them." It was time for some John Dorian diplomacy.

"If you're a brave boy, you can have a lollipop."

"What?"

"Sorry, I was helping at a pediatric free clinic this morning. Just suck it up and do it so you don't have to go to prison."

Perry got up and started pacing around the room, muttering under his breath. 

"Um," said Detective Boyle.

I took the seat that Perry had vacated. "He's processing. Let him be."

Boyle watched him warily. "If he processes too close to Detective Diaz, she will stab him."

"Noted." I picked up a book of cocktail recipes that was sitting on the edge of his desk. "Have you ever had an appletini?"

"I have! Not a fan. I'm currently developing a fish-sauce and olive juice martini with a squid ball garnish."

I'm a doctor. I've seen some stuff. I don't say 'ew' lightly.

Ew.

I flipped through the book which contained lots of non-fishy recipes and set it back down. "You know, that man is my third-best friend," I said.

Boyle narrowed his eyes. "You said second earlier."

"Yeah...my wife Elliot got it into her head that we needed to be best friends so that she could post on Instagram about being married to her best friend to show up all of her sorority sisters who have recently got divorced--it's okay, they're very judgy, they deserve it. Anyway. I told her that no one, but _no one_ , would take the place of Chocolate Bear in my heart, but she could have second place if she took me to Disneyland, and she did, so Perry has slipped in the rankings. But I can't bring myself to tell him."

"My best friend is Jake Peralta." His face fell. "We've never gone to Disneyland."

"I'm sure you'll get there some day," I assured him. I looked again at Perry. "But that man is my third-best friend and he didn't even tell me he was in New York until he got arrested."

Boyle side-eyed me. "That's messed up."

"So messed up," I agreed.

"Fine!" I looked up. Perry had gone from red to purple. "Fine, let's just get this over with!"

Boyle stood up. "Great! I'll go get Ms. Cole."

When he returned with Ms. Cole, Perry took a deep breath, and said, "I'm so--" He stopped, and gagged. 

Ms. Cole frowned. "Is he making fun of me?"

I shook my head. "No, this is just who he is."

"I'm sorry," Perry managed. "And you are entitled to your ill-informed, stupid, dangerous, irresponsible, unconscionable, tiresome, ludicrous, naive, short-sighted, witless, simpleminded, unethical, and downright cruel opinion. I suppose."

Ms. Cole glared at him. "Rot in prison," she said, and turned on her heel.

I stood up. "Ma'am, please wait." She turned back. "What Doctor Cox is trying to say is that he understands that medicine has not always done the best job of communicating with the general public, and yes there have been errors, sometimes grave ones, which have harmed rather than helped, but in the case of vaccines the evidence if overwhelming that the risks are vastly outweighed by the positives. And so, while he struggles to reconcile your opinion with his experience as a physician, he is going to work hard to understand it, and going forward he's going to engage in productive conversations rather than arguments and physical violence. And he does very much regret that in this case he allowed his emotions to get the better of him, and acted out the way that he did."

She rolled her eyes and looked at Perry. "Is that what you meant?"

Perry shrugged. "Sure."

"Whatever. You're lucky your buddy's here." She shook her head. "You didn't hit me that hard. I don't want to deal with this any more."

When she was gone, I grinned at Perry. "She called us buddies."

"She spends her days protesting life-saving medicine and is clearly very stupid."

"How come you didn't tell me you were in New York?"

He shrugged. "Cheryl, the list of things I don't tell you..." He trailed off and sighed. "Alright, look. For the next thirty seconds, I am going to get real with you, and I need you to not do...what you do."

I put on my serious face. It wasn't hard. I was feeling serious. "What's going on?"

"Jack's going through some stuff. Acting out at school. Getting into trouble. His therapist says that before I can help him, I need to help myself. I can deal with my own self-sabotaging anger issues getting me in trouble, but I can't let it destroy my kid. Apparently I need to...connect with my emotions. And since you are, and I do not say this lightly, the most annoyingly emotionally connected person I know, I came to New York because I...need your help figuring some stuff out."

I looked at Detective Boyle. "Where's a good place to get a dr--no, I think your taste is suspect."

"It is," said Detective Santiago, and she gave me the name of a bar down the street.

"Come on, Perry," I said. "Let's go get some appletinis and figure some stuff out."

Perry growled. This one meant, "I have a lot of big emotions that my abusive childhood and the toxic culture in which I was raised has left me unable to process, but I trust that my friend JD is going to help me through it."

Or something to that effect. Either way, it was going to be okay.

end


End file.
